


It Wasn't Enough To Save Him

by wolfstsrshipper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Death, Draco cries, Drarry, M/M, Sadness, Violence, War Mention, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25554358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfstsrshipper/pseuds/wolfstsrshipper
Summary: After the war, after Harry was carried by Hagrid to the castle, Draco fights. He ends up in one of the upper corridors, breaking things, crying. Harry was dead, and he couldn't save him.Based on anon prompt: "Did you love him?"“It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t enough to save him.”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	It Wasn't Enough To Save Him

“Did you love him?” A voice asked. 

He didn’t have the energy to look up or respond to who was talking. 

There were splintered wood and shattered stone slabs that lay around him. Everyone was down in the Great Hall, laying out the dead and covering them with white sheets. Eating, talking, maybe even relieved laughter as they hugged the ones that made it out alive. There was definitely crying though. One thing was for sure: everyone had lost someone. 

“Draco, did you love him?” They repeated. 

Draco stared down at his hands. His knuckles were split open, blood dripping down to his fingertips and running up into his sleeves, staining the cuffs of his shirt that clung to his wrists a crusty brown. There were wooden splinters embedded in his palms and dust in his blonde hair, turning it grey. There was a shiny streak of pale skin that ran from each eye to the tip of his chin, where there was no dirt caked to his skin. His eyes were bloodshot, mind blank, chest hollow and body unmoving. The only indicator that he was even still alive was the faint breathing which rose his shoulders every now and then.

Draco felt completely empty. Like a dementor had taken his soul and all that was left was this empty shell of a person.

Everything was a blur. He remembered going out and seeing Hagrid holding Harry’s limp body. The way the giant was wracked with sobs. How Voldemort boasted. Then nothing. He was sure he fought, he vividly remembers there being bright flashes of light and shouting, but the next thing he knew there was no more fighting and Draco was in one of the upper corridors, alone and throwing stones against the floor, against the wall. Watching as they burst into a million pieces. Grabbing planks of wood and hitting it over and over against anything and everything until they splintered away. He did this until his arms screamed for rest and his hands were so sore he couldn’t move them.

Then, he fell back against the wall, sliding down and sitting on the cold floor as tears fell and his lungs screamed for breath. He had no idea how much time had passed before Granger found him, but he did notice it was well into the night. 

Draco managed to choke out a “yes,” but his throat was raw and iron hot. It felt like barbed wire had wrapped around his trachea and squeezed tighter with each breath he took, every word he uttered.

Had he been screaming?

Without thinking in actual words, he wondered how she could even ask that question. They had been together since fifth year. It started out as seeing each other in the kitchens late at night, both having severe nightmares from past aggressions. But slowly, they became friends. What was once talking late at night as the house-elves provided food slowly turned into sneaking out to gaze at the stars on the astronomy tower. To hanging out between classes, secret snogging-sessions in the nearest broom closet, and then eventually waking up in the other's bed. Their aggressive, horrible taunting turned to playful teasing.

They never defined exactly what they were, and it never bothered Draco or Harry.

“How much?” Hermione asked, leaning against the wall and looking out the window across from them, seemingly staring at nothing. If Draco had looked up, he would see a face full of pain and misery. A face full of sorrow and maybe a little guilt. He would see bloodshot eyes and a tear-stricken face. He would notice the way her voice shook as she talked to him.

How much? The question seemed to echo in his head. 

Memory after memory toppled onto him, like a never-ending, crushing weight. 

Early mornings where he woke up before Harry and watched him breathe. He looked so peaceful and as soon as the sun would rise high enough to peek through the curtain, Harry would wake up and roll a little closer to Draco, not opening his eyes but smiling a droopy smile as he mumbled "morning." Or the mornings where Harry would wake first, so when Draco opened his eyes he would find beautiful emerald green ones looking at him with such contentment, happiness, and love.

Every late night when they would eat in the kitchen and end up curled under the stars out by the lake, a single blanket wrapped around them, curling closer as the wind blew. 

One particular memory came to his mind though. It was the day before Dumbledore's funeral. They were out by the lake, where they shared what he knew now as their last kiss. It was the day he almost said “I love you.” He didn’t though, because he didn’t want to say it out loud if it wasn’t certain Harry would come back to him. But now Draco wished he had.

He wished he had said it a million times. But he would never get to do any of those things again. He would never have the chance to tell him those three words.

_Maybe he would have stayed._ Draco thought to himself, another tear falling. “It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t enough to save him.”

**Author's Note:**

> anon tumblr ask


End file.
